


For His Own Good

by MonsterChild



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterChild/pseuds/MonsterChild
Summary: It’s only when he’s almost lost her that he lets himself admit his feelings for her.





	For His Own Good

**Author's Note:**

> I can't tell you how excited I am to be delving into the Revolution Fandom! This is the first of many, I have other completed works I will be posting after this, and several works in progress. I hope you all enjoy what I have to offer!
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are mine. And, of course, I don't own Revolution.
> 
> Please enjoy, comment and kudos!

It’s only when he’s almost lost her that he lets himself admit his feelings for her.

The day was like any other.  Bass took a walk, just to clear his head.  Miles and Rachel were fighting, again, and he needed to give them space and to get the hell away from them for one godforsaken minute.  So, he went through the woods, going to the small lake that was just beyond them.  He could use a swim.

When he arrived, he wasn’t alone.  Charlie, in all her naked glory, dove into the water, without knowing that he was there.  He came to stand at the edge of the lake, next to her neat pile of clothes.  Her silhouette moved beneath the surface with a graceful fluidity that he couldn’t look away from.  She only emerged when she reached the opposite shore, her golden hair plastered to her face and neck.

It was obvious that she still hadn’t seen him as she pulled herself onto the outcropping of large boulders, sitting on the edge of the sun-drenched surface of one of the smaller ones with her feet still dangling in the water.  When her gaze lifted, she finally saw him.  She stilled, for a moment, but even from a distance, he could see her devious smirk.  She didn’t shy away or try to cover herself or jump back in.  In fact, she lounged back, her breasts sticking out and her stomach stretched flat.  “Enjoying the view?” she called to him over the distance.

_Fuck yes_ , he thought, trying to ignore the tightening in his pants.  “You should really be more aware of your surroundings, Charlotte,” he called back.  “You never know who might be watching.”

“Why should I when I have the most dangerous man on the continent acting as my personal bodyguard?” she asked, that smirk more teasing than ever.

He hated to admit it, but she was right.  All through the war with the patriots, they acted as a unit.  She didn’t need his protection, he knew that, and still, he had the urge to remain by her side, to keep her safe.  Her deadly precision and quick thinking saved them over and over again, his cunning and killer instinct cutting down everyone that got in their way.  On the battlefield, they moved in an elegant dance together, in a way that Bass had never experienced.  As close as he and Miles have always been, fighting alongside him never was like fighting with Charlie.

Even then, after the war was long over, he stayed by her side, even though Willoughby was about as dangerous as a teddy bear.  They’d bonded along the way, and they spent most of their free time together, whether they realized it or not.

“There are still things I cannot protect you from,” he told her.

She pulled her feet up onto the rock.  “Good thing I can protect myself.”

He shook his head.  Stubborn woman.  Kneeling down, he untied his boots before standing up and toeing them off.  “Well, I suggest you get out now if you don’t want company.”

She stood.  “Come and get me, Monroe.”  With that, she dove back into the water, disappearing under the surface.

He took a moment to whip off his shirt, but when he looked back at the water, he saw that she hadn’t come back up.  Nor could he see her move under the water.  Another moment or two passed before panic seized him.  Without hesitation, he jumped in, swimming as fast as he could toward where she had disappeared.

When Bass found her, her eyes were closed, her body limp in the water.  Blood mixed with it near her head.  He surged toward her, sweeping her into his arms and pushing both of them up to the surface.  He erupted with a deep breath and held Charlie against him.  She didn’t move, she didn’t breathe.

As quickly as he could, he deposited them both onto the shore, Charlie flat on her back.  “Charlie, come on,” he begged her.  “Wake up.”  Nothing.  He tilted her head back, and before he could pinch her nose and put his mouth on hers, she coughed and sputtered, water spurting from her mouth.  She took a wet, shuddering breath, and her eyes opened, that impossible blue finding his face.

“Don’t move,” he told her.  “I think you hit your head.”  His hands went to her head, probing until he found a spot that made her flinch and gasp, and when he pulled away, there was blood on his fingers.  “We need to get you to the doc.”

“My head…” she groaned.

“I know.”  He ran a hand over her cheek and suddenly remembered that she was completely naked, lying beside him.  “Let’s get you dressed.”

It took some time, but they got her dressed and back to the heart of Willoughby to Gene’s clinic.  As Bass figured, Gene said that she had a concussion.  He stitched the wound and gave her some medicine for the pain and told her to rest.  He told Bass that she needed to be woken regularly to test her knowledge with simple questions, and Bass nodded along and agreed to do it.

When Charlie was safely tucked into bed and fast asleep, Bass finally let himself feel the weight of the day.  He was shaking down to his bones.  So close.  He came so close to finally losing her, and it terrified him.  They’d spent years together, fighting against each other and fighting alongside each other.  They’d gotten through scrape after scrape.  There were times before when they came close to dying, one of them or the other.  Still, they’d made it through alive.  The khakis, the nano, she’d survived them all. 

And, she’d almost been taken out by a stupid lake.  So many times before, he came close to losing her, and now, she’d almost drowned.  On his watch.  He didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t survived.

That was the terrifying thought, wasn’t it?  That she would be lost and gone to him forever.  It was the one that brought him to his knees, the one that made him cry as she slept off her head injury.  Tears of fear, but also tears of relief.  Relief that she was alright, that once again she would live to fight another day.  Relief that he didn’t have to say goodbye to one more person, to her.

It was a rough night for Bass.  He stayed up, trying to control his tumultuous emotions whenever he had to wake her up.  He didn’t want her to see how distraught he was, how much this had affected him.

A few days passed, and the terror had receded, just a little.  While she was out of the woods, medically speaking, Bass couldn’t help but still worry.  Suddenly, simple things that she would have done without second thought became dangerous things that Bass didn’t want her doing alone.  When she hunted, he was there with her, which he knew annoyed her since he was not light-footed like she was.  When she went to the lake to bathe or swim, he followed along.  She just rolled her eyes at him, not shy when she stripped in front of him and went into the water.  He let her sleep alone, for the most part.  He honestly couldn’t help but peer into her bedroom some nights, just checking that she was still breathing.

It was one of those occasions when everything changed.

Charlie had been testy all day.  The second she saw him that morning, she snarled and turned away from him.  It made him back off, give her space.  At least for a few hours, but it wasn’t long until he was by her side again.  She glared at him, didn’t say anything, and continued on with her hunt.  All through the day, she didn’t speak to him, not even when the two of them, her mom and her grandpa and Miles all sat down for dinner.  He let her stay quiet, choosing instead to make conversation with Miles and Gene.

Not long after, Charlie retired for the night, and Bass watched her go.  Still, he stayed where he was on the couch, drinking with Miles and shooting the shit.  Once Miles had gone to bed, Bass was left alone, and the loneliness and the lingering concern for Charlie began to fester.  He knew that he should leave her alone, let her be for the night.  Nothing was going to happen to her if he didn’t check on her.

But, what if something did?  And, that was the niggling thought he couldn’t shake, even though he really did know better.

So, against his better judgment, he climbed the stairs to her bedroom and cracked open the door.  She was awake, waiting for him, and threw her pillow at his head.  “Enough!  Can’t you even let me sleep alone?”

He slipped into the room, the door shutting with a click behind him.  “I thought you were asleep.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Monroe,” she said, sitting up with her legs over the edge of the bed.  “Why have you been doing this?”

He stepped further into the room.  “Doing what?”

She scoffed, shaking her head and getting to her feet.  He tried not to notice that she only wore a tank top and a pair of panties.  “Don’t pretend.  You know exactly what I mean.  You’ve been following me around.”  She moved toward him.  “You won’t let me do anything alone.”  Closer.  “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”  Closer.  “You hover.” Closer still until she was standing toe-to-toe with him.  “And, it’s driving me crazy.”

He looked down at her as she glowered up at him, jaw set and eyes narrowed.  “I can’t help it.”  Her face softened as an eyebrow quirked for an explanation.  “I almost lost you,” he admitted.

She looked away from him, confusion knit over her features.  “I’ve almost died before, Monroe.  It’s not like this was anything new.”

Before he could stop himself, he had his hands on her arms, holding her still.  “This wasn’t some bounty hunter, or a patriot, or a rapist in a bar.  This wasn’t somebody who did this.  This was…”  He struggled for the words.  “I couldn’t stop this.  Nobody caused this.  It just… happened.”

When she looked back at him, he could see that she got it.  “Your family…  Shelly and the baby….  It just happened.”

His breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes against the unwanted emotion.  Just hearing Shelly’s name still hurt like hell.

Her hands came up and cupped his face, and he opened his eyes to see her as she stared him down.  “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Bass.  I promise you that.”

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him.  “Please don’t leave me.”  He hated how pathetic it sounded, how vulnerable he felt when he said it, but the words needed out.

Her hands slipped behind his neck, and she boosted herself onto her tiptoes so she was almost at the same level as him.  “Not until the day I die.”  She dared to smirk at him, her eyes on his mouth.

“Not funny,” he managed to mutter before his lips crashed to hers.  He pulled her as close as he could, but it still wasn’t close enough.  “Charlie…”

“Please, Bass,” she begged between heated kisses.  “I need you.”

Clumsily, they maneuvered over to her bed.  Charlie tumbled onto her back, and Bass followed her down, his mouth never leaving hers.  He settled between her thighs, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her head to keep his full weight off her.

His mouth trailed away from hers, kissing along her jaw and down her neck.  Her hands tangled into his curls, holding him to her.  When his lips found her pulse point, his tongue darted out to run along it.  A sign of life, that she was still there.  His lips latched onto it and sucked until it purpled, a sharp contrast to her tan skin.  He nipped at the bruised skin before moving down her neck with light kisses.

Charlie’s hands migrated from his hair down to his shoulders where they tugged insistently at his shirt.  He pulled apart from her for just a moment, long enough to get his shirt off over his head, before going back to nip along her collarbone.  Her hips shifted under him, rolling into him and the growing hardness in his jeans.  He kissed his way down her sternum, over her tank top, and kissed along the swell of one of her breasts.  She whimpered and arched into him.  His mouth moved along the breast until he latched onto her nipple through the shirt.  She keened, one of her hands going back to his hair while the other scraped down his back.  He switched his attention to the other breast, taking that nipple into his mouth and licking at the hardened bud.

Her hands ran down his chest and moved between their bodies.  She cupped his erection through the thick material of his jeans and rubbed over it.  He groaned at the contact, pressing into her hand.  There were too many clothes on still, Bass decided.  He lifted away from her and worked her tank top over her head.  It got discarded onto the floor with his.  He pulled her against him, bare skin against bare skin, her nipples hard.  She whined and her hands started working at the button and zipper of his jeans.  When she got them open, she slid her hand inside his underwear, enveloping his hard cock with long fingers.  She pumped her hand a few times, enough to get him growling against her skin.

He sat up and moved his hands to her hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties.  He worked them off and down her legs before they joined the pile on the floor.  He slid down the bed, out of her grasp, until he could press a kiss to her inner thigh.  She sighed, trying to angle her body to get him where she wanted him.  He bit her thigh in admonishment and licked to sooth it.  Slow, open-mouthed kisses were placed over the silky skin of her thigh.  His mouth met her mound with slow deliberation, his tongue running along on her drenched folds.  After a little teasing, his tongue dipped between her lips, and she practically jumped off the bed at the sensation.

His hands rested on her thighs, pushing them apart.  His mouth worked at her wanting pussy, tongue pushing inside of her.  One of her hands grabbed onto his hair, and he watched her from between her legs as her other hand plays with one of her breasts.  Her head was thrown back, her eyes clenched shut. He removed one of his hands from her thigh and speared his fingers into her.  A strangled noise escaped her throat.  His tongue flicked up to her clit and teased it mercilessly.  She bucked against his mouth.  The sweet little whimpers went straight to Bass’ cock, and he knew that she was holding back so they didn’t wake anyone else in the house.

His mouth moved against her faster, his fingers pumping in and out of her, and the bucking of her hips became erratic as she neared her orgasm.  The hand in his hair tightened its grip, and her body stilled and tensed as she crested, biting down on her other hand so that she didn’t scream out.  His tongue kept moving to work her through it, and only stopped when she relaxed, melting into the bed.

He crawled back up her body, hovering over her once again.  She looked up at him in wonder.  “God damn, Bass…”  He chuckled before taking her mouth with his, the taste of her shared between them.

When they broke apart, she said, “Pants off, now.”

He obliged, toeing off his boots and shucking off his socks, pants and underwear in one go.  He moved back up to her, kissing her hard and heavy, his tongue meeting hers.  Her hand snaked between their bodies to grip him in her hand and guide him to her entrance.  “I need you,” she whimpered.

He kissed her again, one hand cupping her face, as he thrust inside her.  She moaned against his mouth, and her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him deeper.  Her walls were slick and tight around him.  With slow, sure movements, he pulled out to thrust back into her.

They took their time.  It wasn’t rushed, there was no reason to hurry.  Slow strokes in and out of her, her moving in time with him.  The pressure built.  His hand went between their bodies, his thumb hooking against her clit.  Firm strokes that matched their pace, and she was suddenly coming apart around him.  Her walls clenched and tightened, and he knew he was approaching his own orgasm fast.  “Charlie….” he said in warning.

But, her legs stayed wrapped around him.  “Come inside me, Bass.  Please.”

With a few sure thrusts, he fell over the edge and spilt himself inside her.  He dropped to his elbows, still keeping himself above her.  He pressed his forehead to hers.  “I love you.”  The words were out before he even knew that he was going to say them.  “God, Charlie, do I love you.”

In that moment, everything felt so raw, so vulnerable, so open.  He left his heart open to be broken, and it made him wary.

Until she nudged his nose with hers and said, “I’m so in love with you.”  He kissed her as soon as the words were out of her mouth, trying to capture them and keep them close.

“We should sleep,” she said.

He nodded in agreement, and reluctantly pulled out of her.  Together, they crawled under the covers, and he cuddled up behind her.  It wasn't long before both of them fell asleep.

* * *

 

It’s only when he admits he loves her that he becomes too scared.

Bass wakes in the early morning, a rising sun barely peeking through the window.  He’s laying on his side, spooning Charlie’s body with his arm draped over her hip.  She’s still sound asleep, her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.  Her face is soft, relaxed, like she’s at peace.

When Bass looks at her, naked in his arms, he can’t help but wonder how he got to be so lucky.  He’s done some really shitty things in his life, truly monstrous things, things that no man should be forgiven for.  Especially when it comes to Charlie.  And, yet, here they are.  She let him in, she forgave him.  He dares to hope that she might love him, even though she already said she does.  Like he loves her.  If that’s not luck, he doesn’t know what is.

He brushes a strand of golden hair from her face and places a soft kiss to her temple.  She doesn’t move.  He needed this, he needed her.  He needed to be reminded that she’s still alive, still safe with him, despite everything that they’ve been through.  The militia, the tower, the patriots, the nano.  She’s still here.  He’s gotten so involved with this girl, that he can’t imagine his life without her.

And, that’s the awful thought that strike him, the one that has him peeling himself out of Charlie’s bed.  The one that has him dress in quickened silence.  The one that has him leave the house without Charlie or anyone else being the wiser.

He can’t imagine his life without her, but just days ago, he almost had to.  He almost lost her, she almost left him like everyone in his life leaves him.  His family.  Shelley.  Their baby.  Miles.  Everyone he’s ever loved and held dear has left him.  In one way or another.

What’s to stop her from leaving him, too?

And, that’s when the best solution comes to mind: he has to leave her before he gets left.  It won’t hurt that way.

It needs to happen quickly.  Charlie should be up soon, she’s not one to sleep away the day.  She’ll come looking for him, and he can’t be here when she does.

He packs his backpack as fast as he can.  Just the essentials, nothing that he doesn’t need.  It’ll be just like after the tower, when he was on his own with nothing to his name.  Maybe he’ll find his way back to New Vegas, though it wouldn’t be smart with Gould and Duncan both dead.  Or maybe he’ll head back east.  The rest of the eastern seaboard is supposed to be beautiful, despite what happened to Philly and Atlanta.

With the backpack, a bedroll, his swords, and a few measly diamonds in his pocket, he takes off.  He knows that if he truly plans to get away from Willoughby without a trace, he needs to get himself a horse.  Otherwise, Charlie will catch up to him in no time.

* * *

 

Bass actually manages to do it.  He gets away from Willoughby, from Miles and Rachel, but mostly from Charlie.  After the first three weeks, he realized that if they were going to find him, if _she_ was going to find him, it would have happened already.  It should make him happy.  It should be a relief.  There’s nobody left to leave him anymore.

The days blur together.  One bleeds into the next.  He travels through the bulk of them, trying to put as many miles between him and Charlie as he can.  When he comes to towns, he buys supplies.  When he needs money, he fights.  Fighting counts as entertainment everywhere, not just in places like New Vegas.  Bigger towns and small cities are the easiest place to find fighting rings.

It’s almost too easy to take up the mantle of Jimmy King again.  It’s the name he chooses to fight under, despite Monroe having been pardoned by Blanchard and the nation of Texas, but honestly, it’s much more than just a name.  It’s almost too easy to settle into the life of a vagabond, a man without morals, a man who chooses to think of himself and himself alone.  It’s almost too easy to return to the life he led for a short while.  The fights, the diamonds, the girls.  Sometimes hookers, sometimes girls that watch him fight.  No matter who they are, they aren’t anyone that he’ll get attached to.  They’re there to scratch an itch, to just be a body.  It’s almost too easy to drink himself to sleep every night, knowing that it’s the only way he won’t dream about Charlie.

After nearly three months, he’s found his way to Nashville.  It’s outside of the borders of Texas, part of what used to be Georgia.  The city is still alive with music, like it had been before the blackout.  It makes the city a destination for people.

And, where there’s people, there needs to be entertainment.  The music is the main draw, obviously, but fights are in abundance.  Bass finds himself at home in a place they call The Ring of Fire.  Rowdy crowds, booze flowing freely, a brothel next door with gorgeous girls on menu.  The payouts are good, better than he ever made in New Vegas, and he’s able to fight at least twice in a night.  It makes it possible for him to afford a tiny studio apartment just a few blocks from The Ring of Fire.

What starts out as a simple career to survive is taken to a whole new level.  After a few weeks, Bass has become an attraction.  The Unbeatable Jimmy King.  Honestly, he doesn’t realize that it’s true until it’s used to promote him.  He hasn’t lost a fight yet.  That makes him marketable.  It also makes him a target.  Suddenly, he’s against multiple opponents or someone twice his size.  Other undefeated champions from other fights in the city.  Everything that they can throw at him, they do.

Still, he remains unbeaten.

That’s how it continues to be for another few months.  Nobody can beat Jimmy King.  He’s the talk of the town.  People line up down the block to see him fight.  He’s given women and money and booze, and he hasn’t been so comfortable in his life since Philly.  It’s almost enough to make him forget what he’s been running away from.  Almost.

Everything changes when Frank Blanchard comes to town.

It’s before a fight.  Bass is in the green room, where he and the other fighters go before and after fights to amp up or wind down.  He sits in front of one of the mirrors, sipping on a glass of whiskey, when a familiar voice says, “Look what the cat dragged in.”  He looks up into the mirror and sees Frank Blanchard himself standing behind him.

Bass gets to his feet, turns and embraces the older gentleman in a friendly hug.  “Frank!  I never thought I’d ever be glad to see you!”

They separate and each take a seat, turning the chairs so they face each other.  “What brings you out here?” Bass asks him.

Blanchard grabs the bottle of whiskey from the counter and pours himself a glass.  “I could ask you the same question.”

“Needed a change,” Bass deflects.  So far around here, nobody’s asked about his past.  Maybe a few people have recognized him for who he really is, but nobody has outright said anything about it.  “Willoughby was too small a town for me.”

Blanchard grabs his glass.  “If I remember correctly, I offered to give you a position in Austin after the war was over.  You said that Willoughby was more your speed.”  He takes a swig of his drink.  “Or is my memory failing me?”

Bass rubs the back of his neck, looking away.  “So, what are you doing in Nashville?”  It’s a weak deflection, but he doesn’t want Blanchard to keep prying.

The grin on Blanchard’s face says that he knows Bass is avoiding the topic, but he doesn’t mention it.  Instead, he says, “I’m looking to expand the Texan borders.  There’s been no real government here in Georgia since the bombs dropped on Atlanta.  I’m here to see how far I can go.  Just happened to see some pretty girls promoting your fight tonight.  Couldn’t resist dropping in on you.”

“You’re trying to Manifest Destiny your way east?” Bass asks.  “Sounds ambitious.” He takes a drink.  “But, why are you here?  Isn’t that something you’d send somebody else out for?”

Blanchard nods.  “Normally, yeah.  But, seeing as the guy that I normally send on these missions vamoosed without a word to nobody, I had to do this one myself.”

Bass has a feeling that he’s going to regret asking his next question.  “What about Miles?  Or Charlie?”

Taking another drink, Blanchard shakes his head.  “No can do.  Charlie ain’t one for traveling much these days, and Miles didn’t want to be away from her.”

Charlie didn’t want to travel?  Bass can hardly believe that.  She’d loved being on the road.  In fact, she’d had a hard time adjusting when they all first settled back in Willoughby, the traveler in her rebelling against the life she was choosing.  Given the opportunity, he knows she would go wherever Blanchard wanted.  There’s more to it than what he’s saying.  And, what was that about Miles?  “What do you mean?  Why won’t Miles be away from her?  Is she okay?”

Blanchard lets out a big belly laugh.  “Okay?  She’s great!  Little lady is pregnant is all!”

The world comes to a screeching halt.  Charlie?  Pregnant?  There’s so much information in those two words but still far too little.  The big question, the one in flashing neon lights in his brain, is… who’s the father?  He’s been gone for nearly seven months now.  Depending on how far along she is, the baby could be his.

Then, again, he’s been gone for seven months.  Who’s to say that she hasn’t met someone else in that time?  That this new guy is the father?  And, if that’s the case, Bass is pretty sure he’d drink himself to death.  Maybe it’s best that he doesn’t know.

Bass clears his throat, rubs his hand over his mouth, and shifts in his chair.  “That’s… great.  She doing okay with it?”

Blanchard shrugs.  “As far as I know.  Been about two months since I was there.  Gene’s taking care of her so she’s in good hands.  All she said was that she wished the father was around.”  He gives Bass a pointed look before taking a drink of his whiskey.

And, suddenly, everything is clear.  “You aren’t here to expand at all, are you?”

“Not true,” Blanchard denies.  “That’s my real reason for being out here.  But, I promised her that if I saw you, I’d send you back home.  She’s gonna need you when that baby comes along.”

A heaviness he didn’t know was there lifts from Bass’ shoulders.  For the first time in months, he’s… happy.  Sure, in Nashville, he’s been content and comfortable.  But, hearing the news that Charlie is pregnant, with _his kid_ , and is waiting for him to come home…  It makes him truly happy.  A little stunned, but happy none-the-less.

He gets to his feet and claps Blanchard on the shoulder.  “Thanks, Frank.”

Blanchard raises his glass before draining it.  “My pleasure, Monroe.”  He stands.  “Always happy to help out a friend.”

The door to the green room opens, and Arnold, the kid in charge of getting the fighters to and from the ring, pokes his head in.  “Hey, King!  You’re up!”

Bass’ last fight is the only one he ever loses.

* * *

 

It takes six weeks for him to get back to Willoughby.  He’s not wandering aimlessly, like he had on his way out to Nashville.  No, he has a purpose and a goal and a person who is waiting on him.  Two people, actually, even though one hasn’t been born yet.

When he finally makes it to Willoughby, it’s late.  He should have stopped for the night and made camp, but he’d been so close that he pushed for a couple extra hours.  He’s exhausted and covered in the grime and dirt of travel, but he knows that he has to see Charlie.  He needs to let her know that he came back for her.

There’s still some light coming from the windows of the house, a lantern still flickering somewhere within.  He walks right up the porch and into the house without even knocking.  Miles is the only one awake, sitting in the living room with a glass of whiskey.  When he sees Bass, he gets to his feet.  “You son of a bitch.”

Bass waves him off and drops his backpack on the floor.  “We’ll do this later, brother.”  He offers no other words before he takes off up the stairs.

He walks right into Charlie’s room and pauses in the doorway.  She’s fast asleep, laying on her side, her honey-colored hair spilling across her pillow.  Her stomach is large and round under the blankets, and one of her hands lays on it protectively.  Just seeing her makes Bass’ heart beat harder.  He can’t believe he ever thought he’d be able to leave her behind.

Quietly, he unties his boots and kicks them off and pulls his shirt off over his head before padding across the room to the bed.  Lifting up the blankets, he slips into bed behind her.  He cuddles up against her, his chest molded to her back, and rests his hand on her stomach.  She stirs.  “Bass?”

He presses a kiss to her neck.  “Charlotte…”

Her hand finds his and squeezes.  “You came back.”

He shuts his eyes against the sound of her voice.  It sounds so wary, so emotional.  How could he have ever left her?  “I’m so sorry.”  He hugs her tighter to him.  “I’ll never leave you again.”

She turns so that she’s on her back and looks into his eyes.  “And, I told you before, Bass,” she lays her hand against his cheek, “I’ll never leave you.  Ever.”

He lowers his head to hers and presses a soft, slow kiss to her lips.  When he pulls away and looks into her eyes again, he sees that she’s crying.  She sniffles and wipes at her eyes.  “I’m sorry, it’s these stupid fucking hormones, but I’m just…  I’m happy that you’re back.”

With a small smile, he cups her face and wipes away tears with his thumb.  “It’s better than you wanting to kill me.”

She chuckles.  “No.  I mean, I did at first.  I couldn’t believe that you’d just gone, but then, I thought about it, and I thought about you and how you think.”

“And?”

“You panicked.”  It’s said with out accusation or teasing, just a simple statement.  “It’s a scary thing when you love somebody, and you know that better than most.  I figured you just weren’t ready for that again.  Not yet, anyway.”

It boggles his mind how well she knows him.  In his time away, he’d done a lot of mincing of words and thoughts, a lot of rationalizing what he did, a lot of justifying it.  He ran away for her own good, for his own good.  He ran because he knew that she would leave him eventually, one way or another.  And, that’s still true.  He’s terrified of her dying or her turning away from him, but he thinks that she put it best: he panicked.  There’s no justifying or rationalizing it; it’s a simple truth.

Now, it’s just a matter of making it up to her.

“I love you, Charlotte,” he says, resting his forehead against her shoulder.  “I’m ready for it.”

Her fingers comb into his hair.  “Me too, Bass.”

* * *

 

When Charlie goes into labor, Bass has to fight an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.  He has to remind himself that this isn’t all those years ago, in some ramshackle tent city where tragedy had found him again.  No.  They’re in a real house, Charlie’s in a real bed, and they have a real doctor with them.  Gene won’t let anything happen to his granddaughter.  Bass has to believe that.

Bass stays by her side through all of it, the entire labor.  His hand stays in hers, and she squeezes it in her grip during contractions.  When it comes time to push, she screams and cries her way through it.  Bass presses soft and gentle kisses to her hair and face, talking her through it.  She’s exhausted, on the brink of giving up, but he urges her on, and that unyielding strength inside of her comes out.

The cry of his child is the best sound that Bass has ever heard.  The innocent wailing of a new life as Gene and Rachel swaddle the baby in a towel and hand Charlie her baby.  Charlie’s face lights up and tears spilling from her eyes.  She looks at Bass with a wobbly smile, and he kisses her temple.  “It’s a girl,” Gene tells them.

Bass reaches out and runs a hand over the little head of his daughter.  “She’s perfect,” he whispers to Charlie.  “You did good.”

She laughs at him.  “Well, she’s half me and half you.  Did you expect less than perfection?”

He leans down and kisses her on the mouth.  “I love you.”

She smiles.  “You want to hold her?”

Gently, he lifts his baby girl from Charlie’s arms, holding her close to his chest.  “Hi there,” he whispers to her.  “I’m your daddy.”

He’s almost too absorbed in his daughter to notice when Gene and Rachel start talking hurriedly.  That is until Rachel says to Miles, who’s been standing in the doorway the whole time, “Miles, get him out of here.”

Bass looks away from the baby to Charlie, and he realizes just how pale she looks.  He glances to Gene, who’s starting to scramble a bit.  Panic seizes Bass’ heart as Miles lays hands on him and steers him from the room.  When the door between him and Charlie closes, his head is sent spinning.  “No, no, no.  No!  Miles, let me back in there!  I need to be with her!”  He’s fighting against the grip Miles has on his shoulder.  He feels like a caged animal, separated from his mate and ready to kill anybody in his way.  “I need to see her!”

That’s when Miles slaps him.  A quick, perfunctory slap to the face that seems to do the trick.  It gets Bass’ attention, and he looks to his best friend.  “Look down,” Miles says.

Bass does.  He looks down and sees his daughter in his arms, small and vulnerable and perfect.  One half him, one half Charlie.  The thing that he has longed to have for so long.  She’s here, she’s real, she’s alive and breathing and bundled in his arms.

“This isn’t like last time,” Miles tells him.  “No matter what, this is not the same.  No matter what, you have her now.”

Bass doesn’t say anything.  He keeps his eyes on his little girl, watches her as she blinks up at him with big blue eyes and reaches out a tiny hand.  He knows that this little girl can and will save his life someday, just like her mother before her.  She’s what he has to live for.

An eternity later, the bedroom door opens again.  Rachel steps out into the hall, and she gives Bass a small smile.  “You can see her now.”  He doesn’t have to be told twice.  Without a word to her, he brushes past into the bedroom.

Charlie is sitting up in the bed, her color having returned to her face.  Bass looks over at Gene, who’s washing blood off his hands in a basin of warm water.  “Just a little excessive bleeding,” the doctor explains, “had to put in a few stitches.”  He glances over his shoulder at Bass.  “She’s fine.”

Bass’ shoulders slump in relief, and he goes over to the bed and sits on the edge of it next to Charlie.  She gives him a sympathetic smile and reaches up to his cheek.  “Oh, Bass.”  She wipes tears from his face, tears that he hadn’t realized he’d shed.  “Haven’t I told you before?  I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans forward and takes her mouth in a heated kiss.  Her hands cup his face.  Their daughter rests in his arms between them.  It’s a perfect moment.  Just him and the family he’s always longed for.

It’s only when Bass embraces his fear that he gets everything he ever wanted.


End file.
